


more than anything

by smithpepper



Series: one-shots [3]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Universe, First Kiss, Healing, M/M, TW: implied suicidal thoughts, Wedding, sort of canon storyline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithpepper/pseuds/smithpepper
Summary: Of course it hurts. That’s why you do it, the next morning at the train station, when you grab Leorio’s sleeve before he can turn away from you and walk across the platform.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Series: one-shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818457
Comments: 7
Kudos: 101





	more than anything

The world is tainted by evil. It is filthy. It is bloodstained and cruel. At twelve, you know this to be true.

You have seen humanity’s infinite capacity for horrific pain and unspeakable violence. When anyone can rend the fabric of society with such savagery, such glee — what hope exists for decent folk who wish only for peaceful lives?

What hope do you have after you’ve buried the putrid corpses of everyone you ever loved, knowing that they died in agony and terror? How can you possibly endure another second of this life?

* * *

At seventeen you think: it would be so easy to end it all. You’ve considered it many times, lying awake in the middle of the night, wracked with fear and shaking with grief. How easy it would be to just...float into nothing. To give up what it means to be Kurapika, all of the aching memories and fiercely guarded rituals and hard-won lessons. What a relief it would be to put down that heavy burden. 

Yes. A relief...

and still—

you’re still here, aren’t you?

* * *

Still here. Still here. Still here. Your heartbeat, stubbornly reminding you that it will continue to keep you alive even if you hate it. 

And you do. You hate it. It hurts. It makes you sick. At twenty, something has jolted you out of your deep freeze, and suddenly you feel every spring breeze on your skin and every pebble in your shoe as a serious personal affront, something that has no business disturbing you from your painstakingly crafted apathy. How dare the world present you with something besides revenge and death and obsession. 

How dare Gon and Killua put themselves at risk, just to help you. How dare Senritsu listen to your heartbeat and not recoil in disgust and instead offer her friendship. How dare Leorio stay with you night after night and refuse to let you fade away into delirium. How dare he lay his cool palm against your fevered brow. Three days later, when you bid him farewell at the airport, how dare he press a kiss to your cheek, wish you well, squeeze your hand, tell you, Kurapika, stay with us, stay with us, we know it hurts.

And now you have to deal with that: you will hurt him, you will hurt all of them, at some inevitable point. How dare they. 

* * *

Fine. Still here. Still here. By twenty-four, you’ve been sharpened and dulled, dragged through the coals and hung out to dry, but you’re still here, waking up every day to the bleak light of a new dawn. Begrudgingly going through the motions of life: making yourself a gritty cup of black coffee, staring unfocused out of the kitchen window at a trio of sparrows clustered together on a telephone line, thinking: can I manage another day? Another day of reading the news of all of the horrible things that humans do to each another, another day of witnessing casual cruelty everywhere you look.

A gaunt man dressed in rags at the subway entrance is begging for scraps and coins. When a portly businessman in an expensive suit trips on the man’s skeletal ankle, he glances down in disgust, wrinkles his nose, and spits. 

Your blood boils. You want to kill him. Instead you deposit, furtively, a thick wad of Jenni into the man’s pile of blankets before he notices, and board your train with your eyes turning to fire behind their contacts.

* * *

The world is sick, sick, sick. For so long you burned with a desire to exact the same pain and suffering on your enemies that they inflicted upon your family. Eye for a bloodied eye. So what if it left you blind? You’d rather be done with the whole stinking mess of it, the spatter of gore, the vile stench of suffering. How you’ve longed for release, for absolution, for the purity of nothingness.

But you’re still here. Aren’t you? And you’re filled with something new, perhaps; the need to carry out acts of kindness. It’s a trick you’re learning from Leorio, to focus your energies on a different sort of vengeance.

* * *

At twenty-seven, you’ve watched Leorio transform from nervous kid to a confident junior doctor. He’s still an intern, but he’s already beloved by every patient and coworker for his compassion and tenacity, his refusal to give up on even the most difficult cases.

“How do you manage it?” you ask Leorio one night as you’re leaving the bar. Leorio has told you that he watched five people die on his afternoon shift alone. Two from gunshots, one from an untreated cancer, one from strangulation by a jealous lover, and one from a car accident. Leorio worked tirelessly to save them all, ran through the hospital to give them blood and medicine, broke their ribs trying to pump their hearts back to life, and was still unsuccessful. You can’t imagine. You couldn’t do it, and you tell him so.

“Sure you could,” Leorio replies, smiling. His dark eyes crinkle. “Someone’s got to. Of course you could, if you wanted to.”

“But...” you continue, pulling your coat tighter against the cold November air and looking into Leorio’s face. “Doesn’t it hurt? When you lose them? How do you keep going?”

Leorio thinks about that for a minute as you walk underneath an ivy-covered trellis. The dry brown leaves rattle in the wind.

“Of course it hurts. That’s why I do it. That’s why I’ll go back tomorrow.” 

You don’t fully understand, yet, and maybe you still look confused, because Leorio rubs his neck and looks away, sighing.

“Well. It’s late. I’ll catch ya tomorrow for dinner if I’m off in time?”

Yes, you tell him. Dinner will be fine.

Later, back at home, you find yourself crying silently in the shower, imagining Leorio showing up to work in the morning, tired but perpetually cheerful, ready to endure another day of trauma if it meant even the slightest possibility of helping someone. 

* * *

Gon and Killua are getting married in September. No one is surprised; it’s not like anyone had any doubts regarding the level of their devotion to one another. 

Still, though, they’re quite young, both in their early twenties. You worry.

“Are you sure?” you ask Gon the night before the wedding. You’ve taken him for a dinner of grilled fish and elderberry wine at an outdoor oceanfront cafe. “It’s all right to take a bit longer, if you want.”

Violet waves crash against the rocky pier. Gon glows at you across the table, his tanned face lit by the warm candlelight.

“Of course! Why would we wait? It’s always been Killua.”

“Yes, but,” you say, plucking a green olive from your plate and chewing the salty flesh slowly, “marriage is very...permanent.”

“That’s kind of the point, Kurapika,” Gon laughs, draining his wineglass. “You know?”

You blush and murmur something before changing the subject. You don’t know, actually. 

* * *

The afternoon of the wedding is beautiful, golden-scented and clear and sweet. There’s a tinge of autumn to the sky. You know that you’ll miss this day before it’s even over. 

The ceremony is held in a grassy clearing in the forest. White folding chairs are clustered around a large moss-draped tree. You end up seated next to Leorio, who promptly bursts into tears the moment that Gon and Killua come into sight. They’re both dressed in elegant dark suits and beaming with happiness. During their vows, Leorio sniffles so loudly that people are turning in their seats to stare at him. 

“Leorio,” you hiss, elbowing him and handing him a handkerchief. “Get it together.”

Chin quivering, he takes the handkerchief and blows his nose. 

“Sorry. I just can’t believe they’re grown up!” he whispers back. He’s starting to hiccup. “They—they were just babies when we met!” 

Gon and Killua clasp their hands together as Senritsu plays a song on her flute. When Mito steps forward and encircles their hands with a woven strand of greenery, Leorio cries even harder. 

Mortified, you pat him on the shoulder and rub his back. The ceremony only started ten minutes ago. He’ll be demolished by the end of the night at this rate. 

* * *

“So. How long have you two been...?” Zepile asks you at the reception, nodding towards Leorio as he stands in line for a glass of champagne. You blink in alarm. 

“Sorry?” you say, although you heard him perfectly well. It’s loud enough over everyone’s lively chatter that it’s believable, at least. “We...we two?”

Zepile smirks and pops a piece of shrimp cocktail into his mouth. 

“Hm. Never mind.” 

He walks away, snickering to himself, and you feel a flicker of irritation. It’s not your fault that Leorio was so dramatic.

“There you are!” Leorio calls, reappearing with two crystal flutes of champagne. He hands one to you, and raises his own glass in a toast. “Well! To Gon and Killua. Who could have ever imagined?”

You clink your glass against Leorio’s, chuckling.

“Really? Don’t you think it was always obvious?”

Leorio downs his champagne and frowns, gazing out at the dance floor.

“Well. I mean. I always knew they loved each other. Of course. But I wasn’t sure it would... actually lead to  _this_ , you know?” 

You know. You nod and look away, unable to conceal whatever emotion just flared across your face. 

* * *

Of course it hurts. That’s why you do it, the next morning at the train station, when you grab Leorio’s sleeve before he can turn away from you and walk across the platform. Your heart beats so hard in your chest that you feel as though you might cough it up into your hands like a mangled bird wrenched from a cat’s mouth, glistening and bloodied and throbbing and writhing—

Enough. No time for that. Leorio has already turned in surprise, his dark eyes wide with something you’ve never seen. Fear? Delight? 

“Kurapika?”

“Wait,” you say, breathless and nauseous, “wait. I think. I just....”

He waits patiently, frozen in place with his eyes wide and bright. 

“What is it?”

“I...”

You stop, cotton-mouthed and trembling. Your hand goes limp at his sleeve. 

Still here. Still here. Still here. Your heartbeat is triumphant. You’re here right now. You can smell Leorio’s cologne over the engine fumes and the wafting cigarette smoke. 

Thankfully Leorio figures it out. He leans down, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back, and kisses your mouth. 

You can’t suppress a startled noise. The touch of his lips sends a shower of electricity down your spine. Something warm and tingling radiates from your throat down to your thighs. Tentatively, you reach up a hand to cup Leorio’s stubbly cheek and kiss him again, figuring out how to slot your faces together. He laughs when you knock his glasses askew, and quickly slides his tongue across your upper teeth before pulling back. 

“Breathe,” he says softly, touching your shoulder. “Are you all right? _Wow_. I wondered when that would finally happen. Was that—” he pauses, looking suddenly alarmed, “that was what you wanted, right?”

“Yes,” you say, “of course,” and Leorio sags in relief. “I just—I needed. To do that.” 

“Your train is about to leave, though,” Leorio says, pulling you into a tight hug. “Don’t you need to go?” 

You lean your head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat through his sweater, and consider that for a moment. You have work to do. But—

“I’m still here,” you say with a shrug. You’re crying now, but does it matter?  Your train whistles as it pulls out of the station. Leorio laughs through his own tears and kisses the top of your head. “I’m here, aren’t I?”   



End file.
